The Third Floor
by IlUvSkitTLes
Summary: The Mental Ward is a little creepy for her taste, but they need a new nurse and she needs to pay her bills. When a new patient gets transferred in, the one that's been all over the news for being the most dangerous man in the city, things start to spiral out of control and questionable things start happening. "There's more going on here than they want you to know, Maya. Run."


**A/N: Takes place in 1920 because, well, this wouldn't work if I placed them in this day in age. Inspired by a story set in a mental institution by CharxJay called "We'll Make It". Kind of. I read the first chapter, none of the gangs illnesses were known yet, nor the main plot line. I apologize if our story lines clash at one point, not my intention. **

**THIS IS IMPORTANT SO PLEASE READ THIS!**

 **Disclaimer: Abuse (Mentally, Physically, emotionally), Illnesses such as: Schizophrenia, Aggressive Bipolar disease, Suicidal thoughts, depression. Basically, a fuckfull of triggering things, so if you're sensitive to this or have experienced similar things, I really hope you're reading this to give you the option to continue reading. Anything further to this, I apologize if offended, it's solely based on personal experience and as much research as my brain could contain. Oh, and sexual content.  
**

 **Now, I don't want to scare you off. I write mostly humor/Romance, but this will be Mystery/Romance and just a very dark setting. It's set in a mental institution, can't get much darker than that. But I promise, I'll take care of our babies, they go through a lot of shit, but just trust me.**

 **North Haven Psychiatric Hospital**

 **8:03am**

 **.**

Shifting her gear stick into park, she ducks her head to take in the scenery through the windshield of her car. Or all the scrap metal parts she put together to create a makeshift car. She's very much aware that passenger side door was a completely different color from the rusted brown it once was and more of a dull gray now. Or that the review mirror was dangling crookedly on it's last days, like hell if she knows how she had enough gas in the car to make it here.

She takes a strangled breath, eyes flickering around the area. This was not what it looked like in the papers. She notices the bars first, there were bars on every window. The front entrance was substantially large, curving like an arch to create the front double doors. It was three stories high that rose up to the bell tower with a large clock, she has to crane her neck to see the very top of the building.

A mountainous fence with black chipping paint peeling off in little sections isolated the place from the little town of North Haven. Beyond the fence was a u-shaped drive way leading around the front doors and flower beds that ran down to the very ends of the building. She pauses, following the flower trail before she notices someone standing by the very end of west side of the building.

What in the?

She leans back in her seat, observing the boy. He was clad in a grey fitted sweater and sweatpants in the same color with no pockets. White shoes. He was pretty lanky, dark brown hair and a watering can hanging loosely between his fingers.

She leans forward squinting to get a clearer view of his face. He looked a little older than her, average height and weight. He looked to be off in his on world, starring intently at the blended colors of the flowers, yet watering the same patch completely paralyzed.

And then his head snaps up and her heart beats harder but he's not looking at her. She follows his eyes to an older lady. She was a few feet away from him, arms flailing, eyes narrowed back at him, dressed in a basic nurse's uniform. It's obvious she's barking orders at him but all that's heard through her car is the heater on full blast in the cool November weather.

She glances back at the clock tower. 8:15am. Panic runs down her spine. Curse her for being so fucking nosy and making herself late. She's _finally_ on time for something for once in her life and she gets distracted by a dude with a _watering can_. Good job, Maya.

Taking her hands off the wheel, she reaches for her purse in the passenger seat just as a siren wails through the air so loud she can feel the vibrations in her finger tips. Frantically, she lets out a high pitched yelp, the hairs on her neck standing straight.

Whipping around in her seat, there's a large white truck bumper to bumper with her. Incompetent douche-bucket. She inhales to rid the twinge of annoyance riling up in her and throws her arm out, signaling for them to go around.

A few still moments go by until they realize she's not gonna move and the truck door opens. She leans her head back against the seat, eyes following the silhouette in the review mirror until there's an inconsistent taping against her window.

Pursing her lips, she fumbles for the handle before rolling her window down, a sour smile across her face. "Yes?"

An older man glowers down at her. He has a beard that was peppered with grey spots and the bald spot on the back of his head tells her he's around his fifties. The jumpsuit should have been the first warning, or the holster that was packed with a baton, a taser and a nice pair of shiny handcuffs.

But it's the patch across his chest that read NHPD that makes the light bulb go off in her head. North Haven Police Department.

Yeah, she's definitely getting fired today. And probably arrested.

"You're blocking the way ma'am, you need to move immediately." The man says tediously and she shifts under his intense glare before nodding quickly. There was something in his voice that makes her believe he could kill her with a q-tip.

"Yeah, sure, no problem." She squeaks out, shifting gears again, starting the car. "Sorry." She adds on pathetically.

The man snorts, taping on the window with his baton as he walks away, indicating she can roll it back up.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she makes a face and drives through the large U shaped entrance.

When she gets out of the car, slamming the door closed (there was a cracking sound, she's not even gonna bother checking to see what the fuck that was) and she can hear all the commotion. More than one set of sirens, orders being yelled over each other, the gates screeching open and tires burning against the pavement as they come to a halt at the front doors.

The doors are nudged open, two more police officers run out to the trucks.

And what in god's name...?

She leans back against the hood of her car when the officers are crowding towards the second truck, three more nurses standing not far behind. The back doors rip open and someone is dragged out, handcuffs tight against his wrists and ankles. Peppered beard grabs at the boy's arms, shoving him fully out of the van.

She can tell he's a patient, same attire as that watering can boy. Fitted grey sweater with sweatpants to match, the only difference was this guy has dirty blond hair, broader shoulders and was at least a foot taller than him.

Where is watering can boy anyway?

Crossing her arms over her chest to keep the warmth in (the zipper on her jacket had broken off weeks ago) and finds he's closer to her than he was before. Except his eyes were trained on the boy being dragged out of the trucks, his face turning a pasty white color. She may not be that close but she can see the immense fear and alarm reeking off him.

She officially has no idea what the hell was happening right now.

There's a gut wrenching yell, the boy's watering can hits the pavement and her heads snaps back as the new patient drops to his knees, head lowered, wincing in pain. Before she can react, the cop is yanking him back up, dragging him forward.

Pushing herself off the hood, she swallows hard, an unsettling feeling wavers over her. She must admit, she probably watched too many horror movies because she's quite disappointed he didn't put up a fight when they sucker punched him. She was watching, he wasn't resisting. She keeps her gaze on him, letting himself be dragged beyond the fences of the hospital. He looks worn out, she can spot more details the closer he grew towards the entrance. He just looks...like he's given up on something.

Then he looks up, directly at her through hooded eyes and clenched teeth. She can make out the gash on his jawline and the fresh blood trickling down from his nose to his top lip. There's a mesh of purple and blue circling his right eye and his hair was mussed, clothes wrinkled and stained with little spots of blood. With the tight security surrounding him and the petrified expressions on everyone else's face, she's gonna go out on a limb and say he definitely did some shit this town didn't take very well.

Her mouth opens as blue eyes blaze into hers with so much intensity, she staggers back against her car for a second time. There's a twinge of sadness in his eyes but she can spot the darkness there too and she doesn't know if she's scared of him or intrigued by what exactly got him to this point in life.

And then he's being shoved forward again, the cuffs around his wrists clinking, ripping through the tension.

"Lucas Friar."

Tearing her eyes away from the taller boy, watering can boy is approaching her cautiously, hands tied together in a nervous fit. She figures she should start observing all their habits if she's gonna be working here.

If she's not fired, what freaking time was it?

"Deadliest man in North Haven right now." He continues, glancing back at the crowd of cops bombarding through the front door. "He's all over the news, yet you seem shocked. I get ten minutes of tv a day and I still know about it?" He taunts, yet the drained expression on his face doesn't change.

Okay, mental patient or not, he's quite a snarky little shit. Her eyes drop to his name tag finally.

Joshua. Huh.

Maybe she'll stick with Watering Can boy.

"I don't watch a lot of tv." She says simply. Not that she has the time. She wouldn't be applying to work at a _mental ward_ if she could afford cable and watch the news, thanks.

"Just watch out for him."

She should probably look out for _watering can boy_ since _he's_ creeping her out more than the boy being dragged into the place.

And then he's gone and she decides she doesn't have time for that level of crazy and pads towards the door.

Until someone grabs her arm and she flinches when a nurse cuts in front of her.

"You must be Maya." She snaps, raising a brow with pure disdain.

"That would be me. Sorry I'm late."

The woman shakes her words off, turning around and walking up the steps to head inside.

Wow, this is gonna be her _best_ job yet.

 **.**

 **8:34am**

When she opens the doors, it's unnerving how quiet it is. Supposedly this was where the craziest of people get transferred to and there's not one girl yelling, a boy scratching at the walls, someone crying, smashing things...just...nothing.

She's hit with a stench, a mixture between dust, cheap floor polish and sanitizer.

There's a door on the right wall with no title of where it leads to and a wooden table with a lamp, a large hardcover book with a pen laid beside it. The cops were gone, as was the nurse and the dirty blond haired boy, just her and the dust. Lovely.

There's a large window directly across from her that was ten times her size, illuminating the dimly lit foyer. She squints as the sun hits her eyes and scrunches her nose, turning her head to the wide cement staircase on the left. There's cracks and missing pieces and shit this place looks decades old. The walls were made with the same cement, like they hadn't bothered to paint over it or wallpaper it.

Without thinking, she reaches out to one of the cracks in the wall, letting her thumb run along the sharp edges.

"How did you get down here?"

She whips around, pulling her arm back to her side to face a darker skinned man getting off a little bench against the wall. She looks around for a moment in confusion before licking her lips, brows raised in amusement. "Excuse me?" She quips.

"How did you get down here?" He repeats, slightly more harsh and bitter. His hair was jet black and frizzed up, a distressed expression dawned on him.

She takes a step forward, watching him step back when she narrows her eyes. "Just what are you implying?"

"That patients aren't allowed off the third floor."

"Uh," She lets out a dry laugh. Is everyone in this hospital a royal cunt? "First of all, rude." She continues, glancing down at her unkempt appearance. Okay, so her jacket zipper was broken, her hair was a mess from the snow flakes soaking it and her shirt just happens to be grey today.

She pauses.

Yeah okay, the man had a point. "I'm gonna let that prejudice comment slide."

The man's expression lifts, eyes pricking with recognition. "You're _not_ a patient?" He says slowly.

She rolls her eyes, backing away from him and turning towards the untitled door. She wants to know what's down there. "I'm the new nurse." She mumbles under her breath, attention completely elsewhere.

"Oh." He looks away for a moment, running a hand over his head, a string of curse words running off his tongue before turning back to her. "My apologies. I mean...can you blame me though?" He eyes her outfit.

She purses her lips. "Okay, we're done with this conversation because I'm ready to rip off your prized possession."

"Is that a dick joke?"

"Indeed."

"We may get along well. I'm the new group therapist."

"Thrilling." She deadpans.

"I'm Zay."

"That's nice."

"Aren't you gonna tell me your name?"

"Nah."

 **.**

 **8:45am**

"I'm assuming you got lost, which is why you're over half an hour late. This is such a _complicated_ residence." Is the first thing she hears when she reaches the third floor.

She takes a pained huff to catch her breath after walking up three flights, her chest was on fire.

And then a clipboard is being shoved into her chest and she grabs it clumsily, looking up at the nurse from earlier. She notes the crows feet by the woman's eyes and the wrinkles across her forehead as she adjusts her nurse's hat over her blonde hair.

"Because we're so short on staff, you'll be in charge of more than your fair share of things around here. Will that be a problem for you?" She challenges.

She glances down at the list of duties on the clipboard, flipping it over to the next page. The list continues. Great."Nope- I mean absolutely not." She fumbles out as the nurse starts to walk down the hall.

The hall was miles long, there had to be at least ten rooms on each side, the doors unnecessarily large. She quickens her pace to keep up with the nurse. Each patients door had a little window smack dab in the middle with three bars across it to keep the patients from grabbing at the workers.

This looks like the place every mental institution horror flick was filmed and her skin crawls at the thought.

Digging her nails into her palm, the nurse looks at her over her shoulder.

"Good. You'll be working on this floor. First floor is for criminal assessment before court sentences, which is closed by 6pm. Second floor is the psychiatrist office, power, electrical boxes and straight jacket patients."

Maya opens her mouth but shuts it quickly. She shouldn't but the curiously drills at her brain. "What about the uh...the door by the stairs on the first floor? Is that-?"

The woman's eyes darken, her back stiffening. "The basement. No one is allowed in the basement, it's closed. Never step foot in there." She growls, and then slaps a smile back on. "The patients are woken at 7am." She continues walking as if nothing happened. "They'll then line up for routine checking, head counting, before going into the tv room where they'll take their morning medications with breakfast. One hour free time before they're split up for group at 8."

Ah group therapy with Zay. How nice.

Suddenly the nurse stops and Maya almost runs into her back before looking at the large glass window in front of them. A black haired girl walks by window with a pad of paper and a pencil grasped in her hands. She follows the girl's movements towards a raggedy burgundy colored couch that was sloped in the middle from so many years of people sitting on it.

The girl sits on the arm of the couch silently beside two other patients.

"I've taken note you've already met the new psychiatrist." The nurse points out, referring to Zay. "The patients see him once a week for evaluations, blood pressure and vital sign checks. The patients are to be checked up on, your job is to do a round around the halls every thirty minutes." She stops, pointing at a brunette sitting in the window seat in the far right of the room by herself. "It differs per patient. That one there, here for manic episodes, depression, insomnia. You name it, she's got it. Haven't seen the girl with her eyelids closed more than five seconds. Watch for her, she's sneaky and will find any way not to take her damn pills."

She resists the urge to call her out on being such a bitch to mentally ill patients but bits her tongue, starring back at the brunette in the window seat, looking out the window like she cherished everything beyond these walls. She deemed the type to wake up in this place everyday and the sun would shine on her features and her favorite breakfast would be served and she would call it a pretty good day.

She looks like she holds a lot of hope.

The nurse huffs out a displeased laugh, hugging her own clipboard to her chest. "They get ten minutes on the phone a day. 5 pm is split between the ones with ground privileges. They get an hour to work outside. 6 is dinner."

"And the ones who don't have ground privileges?"

"Back to their rooms. Nighttime meds are taken at 9pm. 10pm is lights out. And we repeat the same process again tomorrow. Is that clear?"

She should have written this down. "Crystal."

"Great, you're on supervision until 9, then straight through the group meetings until 12pm which is lunch. After that, we'll talk about if you still want this job." The nurse deadpans and there is something off-putting about her, but she can't figure out what it is.

 **.**

The doors slam closed behind her as she steps into the tv room. She flinches, none of the patients react.

The brunette's still at the window, the black haired girl has shifted to a spot on the couch beside a brown haired boy but they don't talk.

She leans back against the glass, heart pounding in her ears. _Get your shit together Maya, these do not look like dangerous criminal insane people, that's the second floor. You can do this, you need the money, suck it up._

The door rips open again and a guard shoves someone in the room before ripping the door back closed.

Lucas Friar.


End file.
